


Let Me Be Your Freedom

by lunasenzanotte



Category: Football RPF, Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Kink Discovery, M/M, Mind Games, Mistaken Identity, Oral Sex, Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-08-09 01:03:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16440152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunasenzanotte/pseuds/lunasenzanotte
Summary: Paulo agrees to deliver a message in Douglas' place. He gets tangled in a game he definitely never asked to play.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I might have tagged things that will only eventually appear in the story, just so that I don't get yelled at for not giving a warning.

Paulo feels like he should have at least asked why Douglas insisted on him wearing the coat. He must look imposing in it, he thinks, despite it being a bit too large for him, but then, he’s sitting on a horse. He should have probably also asked why the horse was important when a car would be faster and safer, in this weather at least. But when he wanted to make an objection, Douglas just waved his hand from the bed and whispered: “Just go.” He has been in bed with tonsillitis for the second week already, and not feeling any better. Which was why Paulo let himself be persuaded to bring a piece of paper with a wax seal on top of the hill not far from Douglas’ chalet. What else to do when you come for a holiday, but your friend gets sick and just bosses you around, right? Although this feels a lot like being bossed around, too.

It’s March and it’s white outside. Which is why Paulo would prefer the inside of a heated car to the icy wind. The coat with a large hood is covering him whole and is long enough to also cover a large part of the horse’s body. It’s early in the morning, so Paulo can be sure he won’t meet anyone on the road. It’s cold, overcast, and it’s Sunday, so he is the only fool outside. Because he’s taken a fancy in horse riding, actually, despite laughing at Douglas for buying a horse at first, and because if he’s honest with himself, he’s never been able to tell Douglas no. No matter how crazy his ideas were.

When he passes through one of the villages, he indeed doesn’t meet anyone. Most of the windows are still dark. He crosses the main road without any problems. Well, as far as he knows, the frequency of the traffic on it are probably ten cars a day. He rides up the hill, accompanied only by the sound the horseshoes make on the frozen ground. The otherwise lively village behind the hill is quiet as well. Paulo looks over the meadows covered with a snow blanket, then turns his head and sees the curtain in one of the windows move, or so it seems to him. Almost like someone is watching him. He sighs and calls himself a paranoid idiot. But at the last house he passes, he sees the curtain move as well. Coincidence, because what else would it be? 

He turns the horse into the fields.

What is actually on the scroll? He should have asked about that, too. Douglas said something about some game and that he couldn’t spoil it for the others. It sounded just like something Douglas would be into, the secret nerd.

Paulo leads the horse towards the forest and slows down in front of the concrete road. He doesn’t know if there’s not ice under the snow and he doesn’t want the horse to slip. He’d do a lot for Douglas, but he’s not willing to get himself killed. 

Another village, also quiet and asleep. Although… He gets the impression that he’s seen someone jump away from the window quickly, like they didn’t want to be seen. The person was also holding something… a phone? A radio? He’s not sure. Maybe there was no person. Maybe he’s just reading too much into this all. Something small has also disappeared behind the last house. A dog?

The icy wind stings his cheeks as he enters the forest and lets the horse trot between the trees. He’s fully awake despite the early hour. The forest is eerily quiet. Even the horse doesn’t like it. Paulo feels that the animal is nervous. It’s also still dark, despite them riding for a good while.

Finally, they get out of the forest. The designated hill is half-hidden in the fog in front of him. Someone is supposed to wait for him on top of it, at least so he was told by Douglas. A man. A stranger. He’s supposed to give the paper to him. Suddenly, Paulo just wants this to be over. He just has a weird feeling about this, although reason tells him Douglas wouldn’t let him do it if it was dangerous. Hopefully. Well, if he’s completely honest with himself, he doesn’t really trust Douglas can tell if something’s dangerous.

They arrive on top of the hill and it’s empty. Fog everywhere. The village under his feet is completely hidden by it, but he hears a dog bark somewhere. Suddenly, something moves under the horse, and a child’s face stares up at him from underneath a white blanket. Surprisingly, the horse doesn’t startle at all.

“Hi, you got it?” the boy asks. _A child? They sent a child? It was supposed to be a man!_ Paulo hesitates.

“But I was supposed to give it to an adult…” 

The child waves his hand impatiently. “He couldn’t make it, so he sent me for it. You have it or not?”

“You know what to do with it?” Paulo asks for good measure, although he himself has no idea what should be done with the paper. But Douglas looked like he cared a lot about it. 

“Of course I do!” The boy looks offended.

Paulo pulls out the scroll and hesitantly hands it to him. The boy grabs it and tucks it under his jacket. Then he throws the white blanket over his head and runs away. Down the steep hill. And he’s gone. Paulo takes a deep breath, happy for it to be over. He realizes that he’s hungry. He turns the horse and heads to the road that leads through the forest around the ruins of a castle. He doesn’t really know why Douglas bought a chalet near a place that looks like Dracula’s home, but that’s Douglas. The silence in the forest is heavy. Then a thunder sounds in the distance. A storm is approaching. The castle is standing tall in front of him, somehow bigger than he remembers it. He really hasn’t been around here for a long time. 

And then he sees the lights. Lights behind the windows of the castle. He knows there are some events going on in summer, but now? He shivers. The castle gives him goosebumps every time. The horse looks nervous as well. Paulo lets it canter and lowers his head to protect himself from the falling snow. There’s nowhere to get lost on the road, so he doesn’t have to watch it. The snow falls more and more. Suddenly, the horse stops and Paulo looks up. A few steps from him, another rider is sitting on a horse. Although he’s so close, Paulo sees him only as a dark silhouette. 

Paulo panics and turns the horse. He doesn’t really have to persuade it, because the horse wants to get away as much as he does. It canters right back towards the hill. What will that man think? Paulo doesn’t care, because he wants to go home and he’s scared. 

The horse stops so suddenly that he almost falls. Paulo looks around, confused, then angrily throws aside the hem of his hood and sees two more riders approaching. Slowly, but ominously. They are riding big horses, almost twice the size of his mare. Both ride a bit aside, taking up the entire width of the path. Paulo turns back. There are two riders there now, too. It’s clear as day that they are there because of him, that they want to talk to him or… 

He kind of feels like screaming for help, but there’s nobody around. Nobody would hear him in the village under the hill. He forces himself to stay calm and lets them ride up to him. One of them jumps off his horse and takes Paulo’s horse’s bridle. Paulo can’t believe his eyes.

“What do you think you are do-“ He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because someone else pulls him down and holds his arm like they want to break it. “Who are you?” Paulo barks, and hears how strained his voice sounds. He’s really scared now. “What do you want?”

No answer. The man holding him just chuckles.

“You lost, so don’t struggle.” Finally, one of them speaks. Paulo pouts. He’s not struggling, maybe he’s shivering from cold and cowering a bit, but he’s not _struggling_ , and he has no idea what they are talking about. One of those who remained in the saddle throws a rope down to the other one. “Tie him up.”

_What?_

“But I-“ He doesn’t get to finish even now, because of them hits him in the face.

“Shut up!” he hisses.

Paulo wants to protest, but he’s too stunned. Which was probably their intention, because before he comes to his senses, his hands are tied behind his back.

“Get him on the horse and let’s go, before the storm comes.”

Paulo would get on the horse himself, but with the tied hands, it’s not easy. Actually, it’s quite impossible. Also when he’s shivering from fear. The man trying to help him loses his patience and elbows him in the ribs.

“Cut the act, you won’t run away now anyway.”

It only confirms to Paulo that they have simply mistaken him for someone else. He lets the man somehow push him up in the saddle. Someone takes his horse’s bridle again and they get going slowly. Luckily, because Paulo fears he’s going to fall down and kill himself, or the men will take his fall for an attempted escape and kill him.

They go up to the castle. Paulo gasps. There really are lights in the windows, and the large gate suddenly opens. The icy wind is blowing hard. Paulo shivers. He hopes that once they realize their mistake, they’ll give him a cup of hot tea and let him stay until the storm is over. He won’t even ask for an apology.

In the courtyard, they yank him down and lead the horse away. Paulo almost doesn’t keep his balance. They drag him inside, not very gently, although he doesn’t struggle. Inside, there are more people than he expected, and everyone is looking at him, men and women. They all look like they fell through time, a few centuries at least. Paulo is starting to question his sanity.

At least there are two large fireplaces, and it’s warmer there. The men are still gripping his arms, dragging him towards the far end of the hall. On a raised platform stands a large, decorative chair, and a man is sitting in it. The first thing Paulo notices are his hands, large hands with some leather wrist cuffs. He’s wearing a fur vest over an open shirt. Dark, somewhat disheveled hair is falling in his sharp blue eyes. He looks borderline arrogant. 

“Take off that hood, I want to see who’s been evading me for so long,” he says. His voice is deep, rich, a bit bored. One of the men jumps to Paulo and rips the hood off his head. That’s the moment Paulo was looking forward to. 

There’s indeed surprise in the man’s eyes, when Paulo raises his head. Paulo relishes that moment, waiting for an apology to come.

“I really didn’t think they’d send someone this young,” he smiles. “Clever. Very clever.”

What the hell is he talking about? Nobody sent him! Well, Douglas did, but that doesn’t count. And what does he mean by ‘this young’? How old does he think Paulo is? He knows that he looks younger than he really is, but why is this idiot talking about him like he’s a sixteen years old teenager?

He straightens up and looks right in the man’s eyes. “I don’t know who you are,” he says and turns around to look at all of the people around, to make it clear that he’s never seen them before. “I don’t know who you’ve mistaken me for and what you want from me, but I would like to go home now.” 

The man starts to laugh. Paulo feels the fear creep up his spine.

“You play really well, but there’s no need for it now. You know the rules, you know what’s going to happen now, right?” He’s eyeing Paulo like a cat. A hungry cat.

“I’m not playing anything and I don’t know about any rules!” He knows one thing now, that he’s got tangled up in something he has no idea about.

The man looks impatient. But Paulo probably “plays” really well, because the man gestures to one of the others, who rushes away and then brings him something. The scroll. Paulo pales, which in itself is probably an answer, but the man asks anyway: “Can you swear you never saw this?” He gets up from his chair and unrolls the paper in front of Paulo’s eyes. He looks imposing, standing much taller above Paulo.

“I… I have no idea what it is,” Paulo says, and he’s actually not lying. He didn’t ask what was on it.

“Do you deny that you gave this to a little boy today?”

“No, but I have no idea what’s going on!” Paulo yells.

The man smiles again. There’s something chilling about that smile.

“You have no idea?” he asks sarcastically. “You beat me five times, that’s good enough, isn’t it? You won a couple battles, but I won the war, and I got a hostage! I can do whatever I want with you.”

“Who won? I’m not playing anything! You don’t know who I am!” Paulo’s voice is close to hysterical now.

“Two weeks ago, my men saw you delivering a message in the park, but you managed to escape that time. We got the message anyway.” He throws another scroll on the table.

Paulo just stares. “I wasn’t even here two weeks ago!” he screams. The tied hands are annoying him, because he can’t make any gestures. 

“You’re lying,” the man says calmly. “I have a witness who will confirm that you delivered a message today. That’s enough.”

The little boy from the hill suddenly appears in front of Paulo, and grins. Paulo resigns.

“Fine, I did give the paper to this boy today, but just because my friend asked me to. Do you understand? Even the horse isn’t mine. My friend is sick, he’s got tonsillitis, he couldn’t go so he sent me and gave me the paper. I don’t even know what’s written in it. I have no idea what game you’re playing and what are the rules.” Now he’s glad he didn’t ask about anything. Maybe his ignorance will save him. He looks at the man pleadingly.

“By sending you, he gave the consent in your place. He could have waited until he’d feel better.”

“He said it was urgent,” Paulo says, suddenly feeling tired.

The man laughs again. Paulo is tired, scared, and his tied wrists hurt like hell. The man’s attitude is really annoying him.

“Of course it was urgent. Today was your last chance - you almost, almost won - but you didn’t.”

“I really don’t know what this is all about. Please.”

The man looks at him like he wants to see to the very bottom of Paulo’s soul. All he could see there would be chaos, though. He takes a breath, like he wants to ask a question. But then he pauses and smiles, like something’s just crossed his mind. He steps away from Paulo and beckons his men.

“Take him away.”

Two men start to approach him. Paulo realizes that this is bad. He kicks, screams, even tries to bite. “I didn’t consent to anything! I’m here against my will, can you hear me?”

They don’t have much work with a much smaller victim, especially when the victim has his hands tied behind his back. The man laughs again. And he drinks Paulo with his eyes. There’s something akin to lust in them. _God, please, don’t let him be some kind of a pervert._

They more carry Paulo inside a room than they lead him there. He doesn’t mean to make it easier for them. There, they throw him on the bed and leave. A key turns in the lock. Paulo lies on his side on the bed and breathes heavily. The bed is large enough to accommodate a whole family. It has a canopy made of blue velvet. _What the hell is this place?_

When his breath gets back to normal, Paulo sits up and then manages to stand up and walk to the window. The storm is still raging outside and the sky is dark. The room is lit only by candles.

The key sounds in the lock once more. Paulo turns around briskly, his heart skipping a beat. A man walks out. He’s probably Paulo’s age, but taller. He’s wearing simple black pants and a white shirt so thin that Paulo can make out every little muscle of his chest, and can see his nipples through the fabric. He prefers to look away.

“I’m Federico and I’m supposed to wash you,” the man says quietly.

“What?” Paulo blurts out. 

The man looks about as confused as him, though. “I’m…” he starts.

“Don’t repeat it!” Paulo stops him. “I don’t want anyone to wash me, is that clear? I want to go home!”

Federico’s eyes get wide. “Well, you have quite some nerve on you,” he says. “You want to look down there as soon or possible or what?”

“Down where? I want to go home!” Paulo is almost shouting again.

Federico folds his arms and looks at Paulo again, and this time his look is more searching. “You really have no idea, do you?” he asks somewhat sadly.

“Really, although I have no idea what I have no idea about.” Paulo isn’t shouting anymore.

“You know nothing about the rules?”

“If you don’t mean traffic rules, then no.”

“Well, then you’re in some deep shit, if you really aren’t here willingly.” Paulo can’t tell if Federico wants to cry, or laugh. Or both.

“Jesus, I’m telling you from the very beginning that I’m here against my will!” Paulo yells.

“But everyone thinks it’s a part of the game,” Federico objects.

“I’m not playing any games! I mean everything I say, I’m serious! When are you all going to understand? You’ve mistaken me for someone else! Do you understand?” The last sentence comes out quiet, and Paulo feels close to crying.

Federico’s hand flies to his own neck, like he’s startled or like he’s just understood. The thoughts that are rapidly flying through his mind are reflecting in his eyes. “I understand, but he doesn’t care,” he says. “He didn’t believe you when you said you knew nothing about the scroll. There’s no use in arguing with him. Please, promise me you won’t argue with him.” Federico is actually looking at Paulo pleadingly. 

There’s a sound coming from the corridor and they both startle. “If someone knew I was talking to you, they’d punish me,” Federico whispers. “I’m supposed to just wash you and dress you.” He looks like he wants to help Paulo, but at the same time he’s afraid of something.

“Why would someone punish you for talking to me?” Paulo asks. “They shouldn’t have sent you in here, then!”

Federico sighs resignedly. “Come. I’ll wash you and explain it to you in the meanwhile.”

“I can wash myself, thank you.”

“Please!” Federico whines. “Someone could be listening behind the door or they could enter and listen behind the bathroom door, it has to look like I’m washing you and I’m quiet.”

“Fine.” Paulo agrees just because Federico looks so desperate.

Federico pulls a knife out of his pocket and makes a step towards Paulo. Paulo almost falls. “Are you mad? What do you want to do with that knife?” He hears the fear in his own voice.

Federico stops and smiles a bit, probably realizing how it must look. “No, don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” he says, and his lips twitch like he can’t help himself. He looks like a little boy in that moment. “I just need to take off your clothes.”

Paulo’s eyes widen. He wants to… cut them off?

“Untie me, then, I’ll take them off myself,” he offers.

Federico shakes his head resolutely. “I can’t. If he found out, he’d kill me.”

“He won’t find out, I won’t tell him.”

“I really can’t, you don’t understand.”

“I promise I won’t run away and I’ll let you tie me up again.” He doesn’t really mean it. The door isn’t locked and there’s silence on the corridor again.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Federico sighs. He steps closer surprisingly quickly, unclasps Paulo’s coat, cuts off the sweater and T-shirt, in the front and along the sleeves. Paulo stays silent and doesn’t dare to move, he’s afraid to even breathe. Federico takes off his pants, socks and shoes, those without destroying them. Paulo steps out of them and winces. His back is burning from the tied hands. Federico gives him a sympathetic look. “You’re not used to it, are you?”

“No, I’m not, are you?” Paulo snaps. 

“Yes, and you’ll get used to it, too,” Federico says calmly and pushes him towards the smaller door that leads to the bathroom. Luckily, he’s holding Paulo’s arm firmly, because Paulo feels his head spin, both from Federico’s answer and from hunger. Federico helps him inside a tub, seats him in there and closes the door. Then he takes the shower and wets his hair. When the water starts to flow, so that nobody could hear them from behind the door, he leans closer to Paulo. “You know what BDSM is?” he whispers in his ear.

Paulo feels his cheeks burn, and hot water has nothing to do with it.

“So you know,” Federico states. “Don’t fight and try to comply with his wishes. He can think up really elaborate punishments that are always worse than what he originally wanted. Everyone knows this about him.” He turns off the water and starts to wash Paulo’s hair with shampoo. Then he washes it off and starts to soap up Paulo’s body. Paulo jerks. “You have to stand this, it’s nothing,” Federico scolds him. “Just don’t do this in front of him when I touch you.”

“What?” Paulo yells.

Federico covers his mouth with his hand that is still covered with soap. Paulo starts to splutter. “Quiet, be quiet,” Federico whispers. “I want to help you, I just want to help you. Sooner or later it will happen and when he sees you don’t like it, we’ll have to do much worse things. And if you make a scene, it will be with audience.”

“That’s not true,” Paulo whispers.

“You can try.” It doesn’t sound angry, rather sad. “Spread your legs.”

“You’ve gone mad!” Paulo shouts again.

Federico turns on the shower quickly and aims it at Paulo’s face. Ice cold. “Have you calmed down?” he asks when Paulo has almost drowned.

Paulo nods.

“Come on, then.”

“I’ll do it myself, untie me, please!”

“I told you I couldn’t do that. The bruises on my backside are starting to fade and I can finally sit normally. I don’t want to end up in the torture room. Not even because of you. I really need a break.”

“Then let it be,” Paulo pleads.

“That’s out of question, he will check.”

“What?” Paulo jumps up and tries to get out of the tub. Federico turns the cold water back on, splashing it on him and hissing: “Sit back down!”

Paulo finally gives up, almost frozen. 

“You are delusional if you think you can just walk out of here!” Federico says and reaches between his legs. There’s actually nothing sensual about it. He does it as a chore. Then finally, he rinses the soap off and starts to fill the bathtub with hot water. He takes a jug from one of the cupboards, puts a spoonful of something in it, mixes and pours it into the tub.

“What’s that?” Paulo asks.

“Milk and honey. It makes the skin softer, and it smells nice. He likes it,” Federico shrugs.

“What’s his name?” Paulo asks. The water is loud enough for them to speak normally now.

“His name is Gigi, and you’ll call him Sir.”

“What the hell?” 

Federico sighs. “We really haven’t had anyone this inexperienced here yet,” he says. Then he looks at Paulo like he sees him for the first time. There’s worry written all over his face. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” he whispers.

“What if I am?”

“Well…” Federico says slowly. “If you were, it would probably save you, but rest assured he will check right when you say it.”

Paulo smiles unwittingly.

“If he finds out you lied, he’ll rip the clothes off your body and leave you tied up in the hall, naked.”

“And?”

“Naked. Tied up. You’ll be at everyone’s disposition. Think, for Christ’s sake! If you’re not an exhibitionist, it won’t be a pleasant experience!”

“Why are you telling me all this? I thought you were a part of it, too,” Paulo says suspiciously.

Federico sighs. “In the hall, I thought you were really here by mistake and you had nothing in common with us.”

“I don’t!”

“But you know what BDSM is, don’t you?”

Paulo’s cheeks get red again. “You also know what AIDS is, but I suppose you don’t have it!” he snaps.

“That’s true.”

“Then why are you helping me?”

“I noticed, and I believe he noticed it as well, and he won’t want to treat you like he treats us. If you don’t provoke him. You have to play a scared, stupid teenager, and do everything he wants. That will bore him. He likes the challenge. If you show any sign of reluctance, it will interest him and he’ll want to find out if you wouldn’t like it after all. He will want to rule you. And ruling stupid people is boring. You have to look like you’re afraid he will kill you or rape you.”

“Doesn’t he want to do just that?” Paulo asks.

“I really doubt it.”

“Then why doesn’t he let me go when he know I don’t belong with you?”

“Because he loves new toys. I think he wants to let you go, but first he wants to try you. What if you liked it, after all?”

“Not in his wildest dreams!” Paulo says resolutely.

“And you don’t even like him?” Federico asks, but doesn’t even wait for an answer. “I think he’s got amazing eyes. He can see right in your soul with them. And he really knows how to tie you up - not like _this_.” He touches Paulo’s wrists. “He’ll redo it when he comes. It will be more comfortable, you’ll see.” 

“I doubt it. My arms hurt, my back hurts, I can’t stand it. Can’t you at least loosen it up a little bit?”

Federico almost reaches for Paulo’s wrists when the door opens and another face appears. “Federico, Master is already asking for you.”

“I was getting his clothes ready,” Federico nods towards Paulo. “I’ll just finish with washing him and we’re done. Bring the clothes, you know where they are.”

“Yes.” The face disappears and the door closes.

“Beware of him. He wants to get into Gigi’s good graces, so he’ll tell everything on us,” Federico whispers next to Paulo’s ear.

“But there’s nothing to tell.”

“You never know with him. Hurry up, we’re taking too long.” He dries Paulo quickly and wraps him up in a large towel. He leads him back to the room, sits him on a chair and starts to comb his hair. After a while, the other man comes and brings a white shirt and simple pants, not much different from what Federico is wearing.

“You brought the food?” Federico asks nicely. 

“Jesus, no!” The man flies out of the room.

“At least I can dress you without him, quickly.” He leaves Paulo’s hair alone and reaches for the pants.

“And underwear?” Paulo asks.

“You better forget that you even asked,” Federico says.

Paulo gulps and tries to persuade himself that he can survive it - he’s not naked, after all. In the meanwhile, Federico realizes that he can’t put the shirt on him unless he unties his hands.

“I’ll have to go and ask.”

Paulo laughs. “Him?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus Christ, Federico, just untie me, put it on me, and tie my hands again.”

“You still don’t understand. These are details he notices. He will know, and we’ll both pay.”

“Fine, go then. Don’t forget to lock the door, so that I don’t try to run away,” Paulo growls.

Federico pales. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

In that moment, the other man comes back. He’s carrying a tray with food. Paulo is dying of hunger.

“Go ask Master if we can untie him, so that we can dress him.” Face to face with that man, Federico is unexpectedly authoritative. The man comes back a moment later, panting. “Yes,” he says. “Master will tie him up himself,” he adds with something akin to jealousy. Like he wants to be in Paulo’s place. Paulo would switch places with him in a heartbeat.

“Fine, go wash the tub.” Federico manages to get him out of earshot once again. Paulo kind of admires this skill. Federico reaches for Paulo’s wrists and starts untying them. “Please, don’t run,” he whispers in his ear. “There are guards behind the door and others under the stairs.” Paulo’s hopes die. He rubs his wrists and stretches his back. Federico pulls the shirt over his head quickly. Then he sits him down again and finishes his hairstyle. His hair is almost dry already, it’s much warmer in the room now.

Federico keeps whispering in his ear. “Please, remember what I told you. You can scream, you can cry, you can do anything, but don’t talk back to him. Be scared, repeat to yourself that he wants to kill you. Understand? Whatever he wants from you. It won’t be so bad. He’ll want to tie you up. Don’t fight, just cry and beg, that will work best. Don’t look in his eyes. Don’t talk too much.”

He places a light kiss in Paulo’s hair and leaves with the other man, so quickly that Paulo can’t even thank him. His heart is beating fast. He gets up from the chair and looks out of the window. The door screeches. It’s him. Playing scared probably won’t be so hard.

He stands in the door and just looks at Paulo. There’s no emotion in his face, positive or negative. He just stands and looks. It annoys Paulo, but he remembers Federico’s advice and doesn’t look Gigi in the eyes. After a long while, Gigi walks in, closes and locks the door, and slips the key in the front pocket of his pants.

“How should I call you?” he asks.

Paulo just stares.

“First name will suffice,” Gigi says. “You forgot to speak?”

“Paulo.”

“Federico told me you knew about our…” he pauses and looks for the right word. “About out orientation.”

The traitor. Paulo should know he wasn’t helping him just like that. The emotions must reflect on his face, and Gigi reads it like an open book.

“I asked him and he has to tell me the truth. He mustn’t lie to me.” If it’s supposed to calm Paulo down, it doesn’t work. “He also told me he thought you weren’t made for it, and that I’ll get bored by you.”

Well, maybe Federico really was trying to help him.

“But I don’t think so.” The words fall down hard. “So you know what BDSM is?”

“Yes, I read about it,” Paulo says slowly.

“Do you think you’ll like it?” He’s purring like a cat.

Paulo takes care of not answering too quickly. He pretends that he thinks for a while. “I don’t think so,” he says slowly, but firmly.

“Have you ever tried it?”

“No,” he breathes out.

“Then how do you know you wouldn’t like it when you don’t know what it’s about?” Gigi seems to be determined to get the consent out of Paulo at all costs. And he has been quite successful so far. Paulo thinks again, he thinks of something to say that would save him, but that would be true at the same time. It’s incredibly hard to lie in front of Gigi. He apologizes to Federico in his mind.

“I…” he lowers his eyes. “I don’t like violence, I…” He even manages to blush, he must look like innocence personified. “I like it tender,” he blurts out. 

Gigi is drinking his every word like a teenager waiting for a girl’s consent to their first sex. Except that Gigi is not a teenager. And then he starts to laugh. Paulo thinks that he’s gone mad. Or that he’s laughing at his naive, romantic ideas about sex. Then Gigi calms down a bit and walks closer to him. “I’ll be so tender you can’t imagine, Paulo,” he whispers above Paulo’s head. Then he leans down and kisses him somewhere above the collarbone. 

Paulo starts praying.

Suddenly, Gigi makes a step back. “I completely forgot about the food!” he says. “You must be hungry.”

He leads Paulo to the table and sits him down. Paulo reaches for the fork. Gigi raises his hand and knocks the fork off the table. It clatters to the floor. He looks dead serious. “I didn’t allow you to start eating.”

Paulo wants to cry. He loses all his appetite, but he’s still terribly hungry. He puts his hands in his lap and stares at the opposite wall. He doesn’t even have to force himself to cry. He feels the tears run down his cheeks. Gigi watches him thoughtfully. “I know you’re new here, but you will try not to make me angry-“ He probably wants to continue his speech, but Paulo thinks it’s time to up his game.

He slides down the chair on the floor, kneels at Gigi’s feet and practically hugs his ankles. He starts sobbing. “Please, don’t kill me, please. I don’t know what you are all talking about, I want to go home.” His body is shaking with sobs, and he somehow senses that if he looked up at Gigi’s face, he’d see disgust.

“Stop it,” Gigi says through gritted teeth. Disgust is indeed dripping from his voice. 

Paulo feels the relief washing over him. He slowly pulls his hands off Gigi’s ankles, curls up on the floor and tries not to move. 

“Get up, nobody will kill you.”

Paulo gets up hesitantly. “So you will let me go?” he asks as naively as he can.

“No!” Gigi barks, apparently annoyed by the whole situation. He wanted prey and he wanted to hunt it down. He really didn’t imagine this. Paulo starts crying again. It kind of comes naturally at this point. Gigi must be wrecking his brain now. His initial excitement is completely gone. But he’s not willing to accept defeat just yet. He is just trying to figure out what to do with Paulo now.

“Did Federico tell you how you should call me?” His voice sounds controlled again.

“Yes,” Paulo whispers. 

“Hmm?”

Paulo understands, but he needs to look a bit stupid now.

Gigi is tapping his fingers on the table nervously. Paulo stays silent and pretends he doesn’t get it.

“Well?”

“What?” Paulo asks meekly.

“Do you know how to call me?”

Paulo puts on a confused expression and looks at him.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

Paulo just stares. He has to look incredibly stupid, judging by Gigi’s reaction. He looks mad, like a lion that got his food stolen by a mouse right under its nose. He walks over to the window and most likely he’s counting to ten. When he comes back, he sits on the chair in front of Paulo.

“You have to say ‘yes, Sir’,” he says and his voice is sweet like honey. It cuts through Paulo like a knife. Nice and calm he looks and _is_ much more dangerous than a while ago. Paulo hates himself for it, but he has to say it. A scared victim would.

“Yes, Sir,” he blurts out, quickly.

“Good,” Gigi purrs. “Sit down.”

Paulo does. Immediately. He sits on the chair quiet as a mouse, just looking at the food in front of him. He feels like he’s going to faint from hunger. Gigi also sits quietly and doesn’t move. Paulo knows what he’s waiting for, but he plays stupid.

“You have to answer me. Always.” Still the sweet voice, but there’s some effort now.

“Okay,” Paulo says and gives him a shy smile. Gigi grips the edge of the table so hard that his knuckles get white. He’s mad. But he controls himself. 

“Get up.”

Paulo gets up, with an adequately surprised expression.

“How will you answer?” Gigi seems to have trouble concealing his anger. He must be telling himself that this won’t work.

Paulo’s face brightens up in a pretended enlightenment. “Yes, Sir!” he says. 

“Sit down,” Gigi growls.

“Yes, Sir,” Paulo smiles like a well-trained dog waiting for a treat. His victory is near. Now he just waits for the permission to start eating. Too soon.

“I’ll feed you,” Gigi says suddenly.

Paulo pales. For a fraction of a second, he looks in his eyes, before casting them down. “Yes, Sir.”

“Are you hungry?” It’s a stupid question, really. He just wants to talk to him.

“Yes, Sir.” It comes out tired. That could work as well.

Gigi doesn’t ask any more questions. He picks the food himself, not caring about Paulo’s tastes. Paulo is so hungry that he doesn’t even care. Gigi also watches him intently all the time. Paulo keeps watching the food. After he feeds him meat, he puts away the fork (the second fork, as the first one stayed on the floor) and starts to pick up pieces of fruit and desserts. Paulo feels like this is too much. He will not be fed by his hand like this. Also, crumbles and bits of cream keep falling down and he forgets himself and wants to catch them with his hands. As he has them in his lap, he hits himself on the desk every time. When he hits himself for the third time, Gigi gets up. Something is wrong.

“Poor thing, it has to be hard for you to keep the hands still,” he says. Paulo wants to hit him in the face. He walks over to the chest of drawers and pulls out a ball of white rope. Paulo jerks.

“I’ll tie your hands, so that it doesn’t tempt you. You don’t want to make me angry, do you?”

“No, Sir,” Paulo says through gritted teeth.

“Good boy,” Gigi purrs.

Paulo wants to scream, jump up, knock over the table with all the dishes, throw a chair at him. Hurt him. This purring will lead him to his grave. He feels he won’t last much longer. _You have to._ He grits his teeth. 

Gigi takes his hand and kneels down next to the chair. _What the hell is he doing?_ He puts the rope on the floor so that Paulo doesn’t see it. He probably doesn’t want to scare him. His hands are large and warm as he caresses Paulo’s palm and covers all the places he’s touched with small kisses. Paulo shivers. Gigi forces him to put his hand behind his back and starts to wrap the rope around his wrist. Paulo has countless opportunities to pull his hand away, but Federico’s words sound in his mind like a mantra. _He’ll want to tie you up. Don’t fight. It won’t be so bad._ No, this will be _really_ bad.

Gigi moves to his left hand. He doesn’t kiss that one, he just caresses and massages it. Paulo would have to be made of stone for it not to have any effect on him. Gigi watches him intently. Paulo stares ahead of himself with genuine fear in his eyes. Gigi wraps the rope around his waist a few times, and then somehow behind his back. He admires his work for a while. Federico was right, it’s much more comfortable. He can’t move, of course, but it doesn’t hurt.

He continues with the feeding. The urge to kick the table and kick him between the legs and run away intensifies. But the door is locked. Paulo doesn’t like this situation at all. He keeps opening his mouth obediently, fighting the temptation to bite Gigi’s fingers off. Gigi, on the other hand, looks much more pleased. “Is it uncomfortable?” he asks, and only then Paulo realizes that he’s been trying to twist one hand out of his bonds. “Should I fix it?”

“No!” Paulo blurts out too quickly. The idea of Gigi touching him again positively scares him. He immediately knows it was the wrong answer. A scared victim wouldn’t get that question at all. He has to think more before he says something. But the answer pleases Gigi so much he doesn’t even force him to call him Sir. “Are you still hungry?” he asks.

Paulo shakes his head. Even that answer is accepted.

“Good.” He pulls a rope near the wall. After a while, the man Federico warned him before appears in the door and bows. 

“Clean the mess,” Gigi says, not even looking at him, and goes to the bathroom. The man starts putting the plates on a tray, trying to stab Paulo with his eyes all the time. Clearly, he’s jealous of Paulo’s hands being tied and of him sitting in one room with Gigi, breathing the same air as Gigi. When Gigi comes back, carrying a small bowl with water and a washcloth, he bows again and leaves. Gigi’s eyes wander to the floor, and Paulo doesn’t think it’s coincidental. The fork is still there. The man seems to have a problem now. Gigi pulls on the rope again. The man appears, ready to comply to his every wish. 

“Sir?”

“I told you to clean the mess.” His voice is ice cold. He’s really scary now. The man looks at the table and finds nothing. Gigi enjoys his confusion for a while, but then he looks at the floor. The man understands and picks up the fork. Paulo feels almost sorry for him. “In the evening you’ll ask for your punishment.”

“Yes, Sir.” He bows and leaves.

Paulo shivers. Gigi really does notice details. Paulo has long forgotten about the fork. 

Gigi looks at him like nothing happened. He picks up the cloth. “You’re all dirty,” he smiles and dabs at Paulo’s lips and chin. Somehow, Paulo manages not to flinch. “I need to see to something, so I’ll just check Federico did his work well, and then I’ll let you rest.”

_What? What?_ Paulo feels his blood going cold. This is the end of playing a scared victim, because now he’s really scared, and also really mad at this man that is so fucking thoughtful it annoys the hell out of him. He sits behind the table and feels his body tremble. Gigi pulls on the rope. The man appears, but his face doesn’t look as cheerful as before. “Bring Federico.”

“Yes, Sir.”

_Federico? Why Federico?_

Federico appears almost immediately.

“Prepare him, I want to check on your work,” Gigi says and heads to the door. “I’ll be right back.”


	2. Two

“Federico!” Paulo whines.

“Quiet! Shut up!” Federico hisses and pulls him towards the bed.

“No! Please, no!” 

“What’s wrong with you? I told you about this. You have to stand this, and he’ll leave you alone!”

He lays Paulo down on the bed, on his tied hands, and reaches for the button of his pants.

“Federico! I can’t! Not this!” Paulo yells.

“Stop it!” Federico hisses and hits him in the face, albeit quite gently. “You can’t spoil it now.”

“I can’t do this.”

“You can. You have to. Think that you’re… at the doctor’s.”

“What?”

“You never had to get naked at the doctor’s?”

“Of course I did.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I go there willingly, for my health.”

“You’ll do this for your health as well.” Paulo stares at him confusedly. “For your mental health, otherwise you’ll go through things you couldn’t even imagine and that could haunt your dreams for a really long time, is that clear?”

“Yes,” Paulo whispers, absolutely exhausted.

“Just a little while, and it’s over, think about that.”

“Yes,” Paulo repeats, somewhat dazed. His head spins.

Federico undoes his pants and pulls them down.

The door clacks.

“He’s ready, Sir,” Federico says, and doesn’t sound at all as bossy as he does when he talks to Paulo.

“Struggled much?” Gigi asks, and there’s hope in his voice.

“No, Sir, he didn’t struggle at all.” Paulo knows that Federico’s eyes are cast down now, so that Gigi can’t look in them. But he’s not even lying that much. Physically, Paulo really didn’t put up much fight.

Gigi walks towards the bed and then sits between Paulo’s ankles. Paulo feels the mattress dip under his weight. He looks at Paulo’s thighs. Federico grips Paulo’s arm and digs his fingers in his skin. Paulo is determined to endure it just so that he doesn’t let him down. Gigi touches his ankle and caresses it gently. Paulo catches his glance. It’s almost like he asks him to resist. This way, it’s no fun. He wants to provoke him to do something. Paulo knows. Gigi’s fingers continue up his calves. Slowly. At the knee, Paulo takes a sharp breath. Gigi stops for a moment, but then keeps going. Federico’s grip on Paulo’s arm gets tighter. When Gigi touches the inner side of his thigh, reason decides to leave Paulo’s brain.

He pulls his knees to his chin quickly, then somehow scrambles up and jumps on the ground. Federico’s nails leave scratches on his arm, but he can barely feel them.

Gigi is sitting on the bed, holding his chin where Paulo managed to hit him with his knee, and his eyes are aflame. Federico looks just sad. Paulo starts yelling, because it’s all he can do. “Can’t you do something… normal for fun? You’re perverts! All of you! Let me go, now! Nobody will tell me what to do! I don’t want to be here, and if you don’t stop, you’ll go to jail!” He’s practically shaking with anger.

The door is locked, the farthest he could run is to the bathroom. He can’t do anything, just stand there and wait. 

Gigi shoots a winning glance at Federico. “I knew it!” he breathes out, and a wide grin appears on his face. “I knew it! He’s absolutely perfect!” Then he just gets up and at the door he turns around and adds: “Take care of him. I’ll take him to my place tomorrow.”

The door clacks again. Federico pales even more.

Paulo leans against the cold wall. He feels like he will faint at any moment now.

Federico sighs. “Congratulations, welcome among us.” It sounds reproachful, but also a bit amused.

“Federico, help me to get out of here, now.” It’s getting dark outside.

Federico shakes his head slowly. “It’s against the rules, and I could pay really hard for it.”

“Then we’ll run away together!”

“But I don’t want to run away, I like it here.”

“But I don’t!” Paulo shouts like everything is Federico’s fault.

Federico just shrugs. “I tried to help you. If you had listened to me, you’d be free now. Maybe you’ll start liking it after all.”

“Don’t count on that!” Paulo continues to yell.

“I’m not counting on that, but Gigi does!” Even Federico raises his voice now. “So stop being hysterical and think. The more you resist him, the bigger will be his desire to subdue you. He likes you. And he can wait. And finally, he will get what he wants. One orgasm can do more than beating and bonds.” He smiles faintly.

“Don’t even think I’d let him…” Paulo feels his cheeks burning again.

“You’ll see. If I were you, I’d enjoy it. In the end, you’ll do what he wants anyway.”

“I won’t.” Paulo has to have the final word.

“I’ll bring you something normal you can sleep in.” 

Federico comes back after a while with some clothes, unties him, waits for him to put on a loose T-shirt and sweatpants, covers him with a thick blanket and leaves. Paulo can't fall asleep, and when he finally does, he keeps waking up and tossing and turning. Finally, he gets up, goes to the bathroom, washes his face and looks out of the window. It has to be early in the morning. All he can see are fields covered with snow. He walks around the room like a tiger in a cage. Everything is silent. He decides to try if the door is still locked. As he starts to creep towards it, the key turns in the lock. Paulo jumps away and sits on the bed quickly. Gigi walks in.

“You’re awake? I thought you’d still be sleeping,” he says with surprise, but quite kindly, considering there is a bruise on his chin. 

Paulo doesn’t deem it necessary to answer.

“You can’t speak?” It’s not really a question. It’s a threat.

“Apparently I’m awake,” Paulo says, completely ignoring it.

Gigi walks up to him. “Don’t make me hurt you,” he warns him quietly. “You’re not that stupid to not remember what I taught you yesterday.”

Paulo stands up. “Of course I remember it, but I’m not going to continue doing it,” he says calmly and looks in Gigi’s eyes. The air inside the room gets heavy. 

Gigi’s eyes glint. He sighs. “I really hate doing this. But I think it’s not so hard, calling me Sir. You need to remember it.” He walks back to the door and calls out. Three men enter the room. Paulo keeps standing there.

“Ten lashes,” Gigi says simply. 

Paulo’s jaw drops. He didn’t expect that. Well, he was being naive. They grab him and drag him towards the bed, kicking and screaming, tying his hands to the bed post above his head. One of them takes a whip and starts. It doesn’t really hurt as much as he feared, but it scares him all the same. If the paralysis he feels is called shock, then he’s in shock. When they untie his hands, he just drops on the floor. Gigi kneels next to him and he’s holding handcuffs and ropes. Paulo lets him cuff him and tie his legs and blindfold him without putting up a fight. He’s slowly starting to understand that he has little to no say in what’s going to happen to him. Someone wraps him up in a blanket and carries him out.

Then he’s laid down on something flat. Something clacks above him, and all sounds get muffled. He’s in a car trunk. The car starts.

He tries to get out of the handcuffs, but he just grazes his wrists. He screams until he almost loses his voice. He can’t quite kick around, but he tries nevertheless. Finally, exhaustion takes over and the rhythmical swaying of the car lulls him to sleep. He wakes up when the car stops. He’s cold. The engine starts again and the car gets going once more.

He has no sense of time. How long did the journey take? An hour, two, more? He manages to slide the blindfold off. The trunk is more or less dark. The car stops again and the engine falls silent. Nothing happens for a long time. Paulo is afraid that they forgot about him or something happened to them and he will die of cold and hunger. He panics and tries to break free once more. In vain.

Finally, the trunk opens. He takes a deep breath. Everything is better than the uncertainty. He sees the blue sky and a man hovering above him.

“You brought a boy! And wasn’t he supposed to be blindfolded?” the man calls over his shoulder.

Paulo can’t quite understand the answer. The man pulls him out of the trunk and carries him across the backyard, a few steps to the door and through a corridor into a room. It doesn’t look like Paulo is anywhere near heavy for him. He sits him on the sofa, unwraps the blanket and unties his feet, but leaves the handcuffs. It’s warm in there and the smell of fresh bread is coming from the kitchen. The man stands him up and leads him to the kitchen, then goes to lock the door. The tiles on the floor feel pleasantly warm. Breakfast is on the table. Paulo smiles without really wanting to. Gigi stands at the window, leaning against the wall. The smile leaves Paulo’s face as quickly as it appeared.

“I thought you didn’t like me feeding you yesterday.”

“No.” Paulo looks at him defyingly. He can’t say that word. Gigi waits. He reminds him of a cat that is just lying there, slowly moving its tail, looking like it just wants to enjoy the sun. In fact, it’s waiting for the right moment to attack. “No, Sir.” He pushes the word past his gritted teeth.

“You can eat alone today, then,” Gigi says calmly. He looks satisfied. Too satisfied.

Paulo lifts his handcuffed hands to him.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes.”

Raised eyebrows.

“Sir.”

“Then eat.”

Paulo gives up his pride and start eating. It goes bad. He almost spills the hot tea. Gets marmalade on the handcuffs. He gives up on the cornflakes, because he wouldn’t manage the spoon. Maybe with a bit of practice, but not while Gigi’s looking at him.

“So, now I can finally have a good look at you.” It gives Paulo chills. Gigi leads him back to the living room. There is a candleholder attached to one of the walls, made of some black metal. It looks pretty with the other furniture. Overall, someone put a lot of thought into decorating this house. Gigi leads Paulo to the candleholder, lifts him up and hangs him by the hands on one branch. It quite high up. He would probably have to jump up if he wanted to set himself free. He tries to lean all his weight on it to see if he can’t just rip it out of the wall. He just grazes his wrists more. He doesn’t like the candleholder anymore. Gigi sits in an armchair and just stares at him like he sees him for the first time in his life. Openly, unapologetically stares. Paulo doesn’t want to know what he’s imagining.

Paulo feels like he won’t be able to stand it any longer. His hands are getting numb, he can’t breathe properly and is practically standing on tiptoes. He gives himself two minutes before he passes out.

“Try to look more alive!” Gigi barks. He grabs the whip that lies on the table next to him like a sleeping snake, and swings it.

It’s loud, but the whip doesn’t even come near Paulo. It scares him all the same. In any case, he doesn’t look like he’s about to pass out anymore.

When Gigi raises his hand again, Paulo screws his eyes shut and just waits. 

Nothing happens.

He dares to crack one eye open. Gigi rises from the armchair and walks up to him. He wraps his arms around Paulo’s waist and lifts him up. Paulo throws his hands over the branch of the candleholder and lets Gigi put him down. His brain registers that Gigi smells really nice. _What the hell?_ It also registers that Gigi holds him a while longer than necessary. He squirms.

“You have to get used to my hands on your body. In the end, you’ll be begging for me to be the only one to touch you,” he whispers in Paulo’s ear.

Paulo’s first instinct is to laugh. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea, so he opts for sarcasm. “Of course. Sir.”

Gigi just smiles. “Come with me, you’ll rest.”

He starts to push him towards the stairs. Paulo’s eyes flicker to the kitchen door longingly. He would surely find a knife in there, long and sharp. 

In the room, Gigi lays him on the bed and sits next to him, unlocking the handcuffs. Paulo sighs with relief. His wrists are burning at this point. Truth to be told, he’s done most of the damage to himself. He still rubs his wrist with a reproachful glance at Gigi.

“Stretch.”

Paulo gets up obediently and stretches his body. It sings in pain. 

“Come here.”

He should go. He doesn’t know why he does what he does. But the door is so close. He touches the handle, and it opens. He runs out in the corridor and down the stairs. The outside door is locked, but there is a window in the kitchen. Paulo almost crashes in the corner, because the floor is quite slippery, especially when he’s wearing just socks. Gigi almost catches him, but slips as well. Paulo runs to the window. He opens it and climbs on the radiator. He realizes he’s higher up than he thought. The second moment of hesitation is the last. Gigi grabs him and pulls him down. Grips his wrists so firmly Paulo yelps, and he slams the window shut again. The living room is in the first floor, but the kitchen widows lead to the other side. He could jump from the living room, but from the kitchen… only if he wants to kill himself. He stores the idea for later as a desperate measure.

Gigi jerks his wrists and either he means to hurt him, or he doesn’t estimate his strength in the heat of the situation, because he almost dislocates Paulo’s shoulder. Paulo fights, kicks, screams. Gigi drags him out of the kitchen. “Mario, Andrea!” he shouts.

Two men run inside. Andrea is the one who carried Paulo from the car, the big one. Still, Paulo doesn’t mean to surrender. He struggles, screams, and bites into Mario’s palm. Mario raises his hand.

“No!” Gigi grabs on his arm and stops him. “I’ll deal with him myself.”

“Where the hell did you find _this_?” Mario hisses.

Gigi looks almost as furious as Mario. Andrea looks borderline amused as he’s holding Paulo down and watching Mario, who is blowing on his hand.

“He’s been running from me for quite some time, but finally I got him,” Gigi says proudly.

“I didn’t run from anyone!” Paulo objects as they push him up the stairs.

“What, he lets himself get caught, and then acts like this?”

No, clearly it’s no use to explain something, because they understand about as much as Gigi does. None of these men have Federico’s brain, unfortunately. 

He gives up, and lets Gigi lay him on the bed and tie of of his hands to the bedpost. He does it a little bit too quickly, and Paulo almost finds it amusing that they kind of fear him now. 

“I’ll manage now, thanks,” Gigi says.

“If you get fed up with him, just call on me, I’d know what to do with him,” Mario smirks. 

Paulo feels the heat in his cheeks again.

“I’ll consider it,” Gigi says calmly and his eyes don’t leave Paulo’s even for a second. He ties his other hand to the bed and waits for Mario and Andrea to leave. “What was this supposed to mean?”

Paulo laughs hysterically. “I wanted to escape.”

A slap lands on his face. He’s not even mad. It’s almost like Gigi is trying to keep him sane.

“Sir,” Paulo pushes through gritted teeth.

“Fine, continue.”

“Just escape… Sir.”

“I got that, I’m asking about the show afterwards. You didn’t really think you would stand a chance against three, did you?”

“I wanted to at least try, Sir,” Paulo barks.

Gigi laughs. “You tried. Feel better now?” he asks, trying to control his laughter, but failing, like Paulo is the most amusing thing he’s seen in a good while.

Paulo sees red. “No, I fucking don’t!” he screams, pulling on the bonds. Gigi laughs even more, if it’s even possible. Then he reaches for Paulo’s ankle. It takes him some effort to take hold of it and tie it to the bed. When he reaches for the other one, Paulo kicks him with all his might. Instead of Gigi’s chin, he hits his shoulder, but it’s still a good one. 

Gigi jumps on him, probably out of lack of other means to pacify him. He’s damn heavy. 

“Don’t test my patience too much, Paulo,” he says. “When you play with fire, you get burnt.”

His face is close. Uncomfortably close. For a moment, Paulo thinks that he will smash their lips together. He doesn’t. He slides down and kisses him on the neck. 

Paulo whines in protest.

“You were a naughty boy,” Gigi says, and there’s amusement seeping from his voice. “You really should rest here, and think about your behavior. Not moving is a part of it,” he adds when Paulo tries to kick him using at least his knee. 

“Or what?”

“Or you could, for example, be resting here naked.”

Sheer horror must be showing on Paulo’s face, because even Gigi looks taken aback by the reaction he wasn’t expecting. “Federico said that you were… Gosh, no one has ever just pulled down your pants?” 

Paulo stares back. “No. Well, Federico did. I believe it was your order. Sir.”

Gigi runs a hand through his hair. The gesture is probably supposed to conceal something, Paulo just can’t figure out what. “Never fucked on the stairs either?” Gigi asks.

Paulo gasps. “Wh- no!”

“I’m just asking because Mario and Andrea wouldn’t be opposed to it, if they ran into you again,” Gigi says and gets up. “So you better stay here. Even if you manage to bite through the rope or something. Judging from Mario’s reaction, your teeth could probably do it.”

The waiting seems to be endless. Only now Paulo feels all the places that hurt. His grazed wrists the most, but his back, shoulders, and ribs, where he most likely got elbowed more or less accidentally by Mario or Andrea.

He doesn’t know how long it takes until Gigi appears again, but he would say _hours_.

“Are you glad to see me?” he grins.

Paulo hopes he doesn’t really expect an answer.

“Were you good here?”

Paulo narrows his eyes. “Yes, Sir.”

Gigi looks suspiciously pleased. “Fine. You can go to the bathroom, and then come down.”

Paulo would punch him in the face if his hands were free, even if it were the last thing he’d do in his life. 

But apparently, Gigi doesn’t fear that, because he starts to untie him. Paulo eyes him questioningly, when Gigi just gets up, leaving him all free. 

“See how much I trust you?” Gigi smiles.

Paulo wasn’t born yesterday. He knows that Gigi doesn’t trust him a single bit. He’s just hoping Paulo will try something again. And he’s determined not to give him what he wants. He doesn’t even move until Gigi closes the door behind him.

He takes his time to come down to the kitchen. The table is only set for one. Whatever it means, Paulo knows that he won’t like it.

“You bite like a dog, you’ll eat like a dog. I feed my dogs once a day, mind you,” Gigi says.

Paulo knows he’s moving on thin ice now, and he’s determined not to test his patience beyond the limits… but also not to give up too much. 

“On your knees.”

Paulo obeys immediately. Only for the feeling of satisfaction when the disappointment reflects in Gigi’s face.

“Position.”

Paulo blinks. “What?” 

“Dogs don’t speak.”

Paulo shuts up, but after a while Gigi understands that he has no idea what to do. He’s probably too used to his other perverted friends with the same tastes obeying his every command.When Gigi reaches for a ball of black rope, Paulo suppresses a sigh. 

Gigi grabs his hand and hesitates. “Look what you’ve done to yourself,” he berates him.

Paulo wants to say that he definitely didn’t handcuff himself, nor closed himself in a car trunk, but him not asking for whatever is happening to him is a concept Gigi and his friends apparently don’t understand.

“I’ll have to bring something else,” he says. “Don’t move.”

The food on the table is tempting. And Paulo is hungry. He starts to consider just reaching up and stealing some of it, but luckily Gigi appears in the door before he can really put his plan into action.

“Something else” is a pair of leather padded handcuffs that allow Paulo to put his wrists some ten or fifteen centimeters apart. Not a big improvement.

“Now the position. Sit on your heels.”

Paulo does.

“Knees apart. Sit straight.”

Paulo obeys.

“More,” Gigi says and kicks him in the inner thigh, pushing his knees wider apart.

The tiles are pleasantly warm, but quite unkind to Paulo’s knees. Paulo keeps his eyes downcast and tries not to move. He feels Gigi’s eyes on him like electricity. It seems that he’s finally somewhat satisfied.

Then he sits at the table and starts to eat. Paulo understands that today, he’s not supposed to be fed.

“You look pretty,” Gigi says. “I can’t wait until you sit here naked next time.”

Paulo pales. He feels his head spin and sees black spots dancing in front of his eyes. And then the tears just start rolling down his cheeks. He hates himself for it. But it suddenly all dawns on him, and watching someone eat when he’s hungry feels like someone stepping on the core of his dignity. And he doesn’t even think about the other things.

He keeps biting on his lips for a while, but then his shoulders jerk with a sob he’s not able to keep down. 

Gigi gives him one long, serious look. Then he jumps up so fast Paulo startles. He pulls him up, wraps his arms around him and leads him to the living room. Paulo doesn’t know what’s going on. Gigi sits him on the sofa, wraps him up in a blanket and starts to rock him like a child. 

“You were really brave, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I’m so proud of you.”

Paulo doesn’t want anyone to be proud of him. He wants to go home and die quietly somewhere in the corner.

Gigi keeps stroking his hair and rubbing his shoulders, pulling up the blanket that keeps sliding off. It doesn’t hurt, and still it’s close to unbearable.

“Better now?” he asks.

Paulo doesn’t know what to answer. In a normal situation, he’d be maybe curious about Gigi, about these two sides of him. But he still wants to die, or at least get away from this man.

Gigi gets up and returns to the kitchen. He brings a glass of water. If Paulo’s hands were free and his throat didn’t feel like lined with sandpaper, he’d splash it in Gigi’s face with great gusto, to show him what he thinks about this solicitude of his. But he drinks all of it, and when Gigi goes to the kitchen, he curls up on the sofa and closes his eyes, as it’s the best defense he’s capable of.


	3. Three

He wakes up on an uncomfortable bed, with a terrible back pain. His wrists itch and burn. He opens his eyes slowly. There’s a small lamp by the bed, otherwise the room is dark. The blanket is white and a little bit scratchy, too much starch. Above him, an infusion bag is hanging, and a tube leads from it right in his arm. Before he can figure out what kind of game this is, the door opens and a nurse walks in. Paulo stares at her like she’s a ghost.

“You’re in the hospital,” she says softly.

“Where?”

“In the hospital,” she repeats patiently. “You fell off a horse.”

_What?_ No, he didn’t fall off a horse. They dragged him off a horse, a few days ago. “No, I didn’t fall.”

She smiles. “Luckily, the scan showed nothing, but they found you unconscious, so it’s normal if you don’t remember anything.”

“Who found me? Where?”

She lays a hand on his shoulder. “You should rest.”

Paulo feels well rested, actually. He feels completely healthy. Only a bit mad.

“What about the horse?”

“I think they said it was fine.”

“Fine, what time is it? What day?”

“It’s Monday, eleven pm. You should really rest now. The doctor will see you in the morning, and if everything’s fine, we’ll let you go home tomorrow.”

Paulo turns on the side, with his arm extended, so that the - in his opinion completely useless - infusion can drip. He can’t imagine staying like that until morning. He has enough energy to chop wood. And his mind is restless. Was it all a dream? Was he on the “other side of the tunnel”? But it was so vivid, and he remembers it so well… until the moment he was kneeling on the kitchen floor. Since that moment, his memories are kind of foggy. But real. Of that he’s sure.

 

~ ~ ~

 

A week later, he goes to work for the first time, because the doctor said he shouldn’t rush things. So he fell off the horse. Some anonymous call alerted the emergency service of a body in the snow. The fact that he was only suffering from a mild hypothermia, when theoretically, he was supposed to have lied there all night, didn’t seem strange to anyone. Everyone just talked about how lucky he was to be alive. When he insisted that he didn’t fall off the horse in the hospital, everyone just tried to calm him down, assuring him the memories would come back. They even considered keeping him there longer, until he admitted that he simply didn’t remember the fall. And then he decided to persuade himself that his “memories” were just a a crazy trick his subconscious played on him, and he didn’t force his version of the events on anyone. He didn’t even tell Douglas anything.

So he just goes to work and the “memories” sometimes return in his dreams. Until one day, when he returns home, with a smile on his face as it’s a beautiful spring day and he thinks of the vacation he’s going to take next week. He unlocks the door and picks up the post from the postbox. He takes the elevator to his apartment and flips through the post on the way up. Most of it are advertisements. He unlocks the door to his apartment and throws all of the advertisements on the cupboard. A single envelope remains in his hand. There is no stamp, no address, just one word - his name, written in handwriting he doesn’t recognize. Paulo has to lean against the wall. The envelope is made of some expensive paper. Inside, there is a card made of the same paper. 

_Ever going for a ride again? I miss you._

_G._

Paulo slides down the wall. He didn’t fall off the horse. And the memories were real.

He has to alert the police. Right away. He jumps up so fast his head spins. Then he realizes he doesn’t even know where the police station is. And what exactly is he going to tell them? Show them the card. It’s completely innocent. Someone misses him and asks if he’s ever going for a ride again. That’s not illegal. _But it should be_ , Paulo thinks. Nobody threatens him. He would have to explain to them what happened to him. He can picture the whole scene. Him explaining to a bored policeman how some guy called Gigi kidnapped him, submitted him to psychological torture and starved him. No, not in a million years. He wouldn’t even tell his friends about something like that. Also, they’d find out pretty easily that he was in the hospital because he hit himself in the head, and they wouldn’t believe him at all. He’d end up in a mental asylum sooner or later.

He reads the words on the card again. It’s clear that Gigi has to know his real name and address, because even though the card didn’t come through the post, someone had to know which postbox to throw it in. But if he knows his name and address, then he surely won’t have any problem to find out about other things.

He can’t focus at work at all the three days remaining until his vacation. He can’t wait until he get out of the city, to his summer house. Only when he sits in the car and goes North, the tension falls off his shoulders. He has sixteen free days in total ahead of him. It’s awfully hot and he’s tired, so he drives slowly. As there are many roads being repaired, he doesn’t really have a choice anyway.

As he gets on the highway, he notices a dark blue car with dark windows behind him. It follows him for the next forty five minutes. He starts to panic. Someone is following him. When the first opportunity to make a stop presents itself, he stops the car, takes his phone out of his bag and puts it within reach. He drinks a bit of water. In the meanwhile, the dark blue car continues down the highway without as much as slowing down. Paulo scolds himself for being paranoid. He really needs to relax. He gets back on the road. No dark blue car in sight. He has to laugh at himself.

As his car enters the forest, a mile or so before he arrives at his destination, he gets the impression of being followed by a dark car again. He slows down and hypnotizes the rear mirror, but there’s no car anywhere. He takes the turn that leads up the hill. He can’t see far on any of the other roads, so he waits behind the turn just in case, but no car appears. With every minute that passes, he gets calmer and perceives the peace and quiet of the forest, and the lively smell of the woods. When nothing happens in ten minutes, he continues up the hill. In another ten minutes, he parks the car in front of his summer house. He gets out of the car and stretches his whole body. It’s late afternoon, the heat is gone, even more so here in the shade, far from the concrete jungle. Sixteen whole free days ahead of him. He starts to carry his things from the trunk to the house.

Two bags in, he remembers that he should probably call his mother. He walks out and leans over the front wall of the house where the signal is best. The call goes as always: “Yeah, mom, the journey was terrible, I’m exhausted. Yeah, I’m fine, I’ll just go to bed early today. Yeah, I’ll enjoy it here. Bye.”

Fine, so he’s called mom, now he should call… Oh, he didn’t put the food in the freezer! He turns around briskly and wants to jump on the front step, but then freezes. There’s a man standing there. Dressed in a cycling jersey. Paulo startles. Then he realizes the man startled as well, and he looks somewhat worried.

“Do you need anything?” Paulo asks with concern.

The man smiles. He looks familiar.

“Don’t you remember me?” He takes off the sunglasses.

Paulo realizes who this is, and he reacts fairly quickly. He turns on his heels and wants to run down the hill to the nearest house. He bumps into Mario, who is coming up the hill. The impact is so big they both almost fall.

“Ow,” Mario whines. “Why always me?”

Andrea reaches them just in time, so that he can help Mario prevent Paulo from screaming. They drag him back inside, struggling and kicking. There, Mario holds him down and Andrea carefully pulls a small case out of his pocket. He opens it in front of Paulo’s eyes. It contains a few pills and a ready-to-use syringe. Paulo stops struggling.

“Either you’ll cooperate, or we’ll have to force feed you this-“ Andrea points at the pills. “And if even that doesn’t work, then-“ he grabs the syringe.

“What is it?” Paulo mumbles into Mario’s palm.

“I have no idea, actually, but it will make you a lot calmer than you are now,” Andrea grins. It could be anything. “So?”

“I’ll be good.”

“What a pity,” Andrea makes a face and puts the syringe back.

Mario pulls out a pair of handcuffs and closes them around Paulo’s wrists. They are cold against his skin. The feeling is uncomfortably familiar.

“Where do you have the things you brought?” Andrea asks then.

“Why do you need to know?” Paulo frowns.

“We’re leaving, wouldn’t want the food to spoil here.”

Paulo just gulps. “Where are we going?”

“To hell,” Mario says.

“I thought so,” Paulo barks. “And I have no doubt you were sent by Satan himself!”

Andrea laughs heartily. Then he puts a piece of duct tape over Paulo’s mouth. “Sorry, but I don’t trust you that much,” he says.

Paulo just glares at him. It’s all he can do to tell Andrea that there will be no forgiveness. Although Andrea doesn’t look like it hurts him all that much.

He grabs Paulo from behind. “Now we’re going to go outside, slowly. No stupidities.” 

It’s getting dark outside. Andrea sits him on the backseat of his car, fastens his seatbelt and ties a piece of black cloth over his eyes. One of them, Paulo can’t quite tell who, then sits behind the wheel, the other next to him. He hears the car start. Paulo’s sense of orientation is quite limited even with all senses available, so he gives up on trying to figure out where they are going. He just tries to sit as comfortably as possible. But after a few turns, the car stops.

Someone opens the door on his side, undoes the seatbelt and pulls him out. Gigi. Paulo recognizes his scent even after all those months. The memories that seemed foggy all that time suddenly become clear, and he kind of wishes they didn’t. 

Judging from the sounds, Gigi opens the trunk. “You’ll be completely quiet, okay?” he whispers in Paulo’s ear. Paulo nods. Screaming would be useless anyway, as they are in the woods, and he does want to get rid of the duct tape. As a bonus, Gigi takes off the blindfold as well. It’s already almost dark, but Paulo still recognizes the dark blue car. He curses himself. If he had listened to his intuition, he wouldn’t be here now. Gigi helps him inside the trunk, carefully adjusts the soft foam behind and under Paulo’s back and then ties his ankles together. Then something doesn’t seem right to him, he unlocks the handcuffs and cuffs Paulo’s hands in front of his body. From all the care Paulo guesses the journey will be long. The lid clacks above his head.

He’s not nearly as scared as he should be, and that’s what scares him the most. Although it kind of makes sense. If Gigi wanted to kill him, he would have done it the first time, or any other time, given he knew where Paulo lived. And as for the other… options… it’s the same thing. This is a game, maybe a different one than Paulo had gotten into because of Douglas, but still a game, and now that he’s not as terrified as he was a couple months ago, he thinks of himself as of a stronger contender in it. Whatever Gigi wants from him, he won’t let him have it.

He thinks about his possibilities. The first thing that comes to his mind is his cell phone. Where is it, actually? He dropped it in front of the house. When could someone call him? Tomorrow, if he’s lucky. Then they find out he’s not answering the phone. When he’s outside and the phone is in the house, he can’t hear it, everyone knows that. How long will they try before someone realizes something’s not right? In a few days, they’ll come over and not find him there. They won’t even know he was there. Did any of the neighbors see him? He doubts it. What awaits him until they find him?

He has no idea how long the journey takes. The swaying of the car lulls him to sleep eventually. Then the car finally stops and the sound of the trunk being opened wakes him up. Gigi unties his legs and helps him out of the trunk, then unlocks his handcuffs. Such a gentleman, Paulo thinks sarcastically. He rubs his wrists and looks around. It’s a beautiful, warm night and the sky is full of stars. Right next to the dark blue car he sees his own, and Andrea is carrying things out of it to the house. Paulo realizes where he is. There’s no snow on the ground, but he would recognize this yard with a high wall around anytime. He regrets not telling anyone about his “memories”. 

“Go to the living room, sit on the sofa and wait for me,” Gigi orders.

Paulo turns around and walks towards the house. He doesn’t really feel like answering.

“Paulo!”

He turns back and looks at Gigi questioningly.

“You can speak now.” 

Paulo has totally forgotten about the previous order of being quiet; this was only his stubbornness, not compliance.

“You can scream if you want to. Actually, you can do whatever you want to,” Gigi smiles mischievously.

_ Of course. And the consequences of it will be surely amazing. _

“Yes, Sir, thank you,” Paulo says sweetly.

Gigi turns around and starts to pull something out of the trunk quickly. He’s mad. Annoyed. Because Paulo hasn’t tried anything yet, and he’s even thanking him. Paulo is determined to keep it up.

He walks inside, sits on the sofa and looks around. Mario and Andrea are unpacking his food in the kitchen. It’s probably supposed to make him angry. Paulo doesn’t care. He’s tired and it’s late. There’s a bunch of various things on the table in front of him that nobody’s bothered to clean up yet. Then he spots a cell phone among them. Completely like his own. Oh damn, it is his phone! The two could definitely see him from the kitchen, but they seem to pay him no attention. Paulo carefully reaches for the phone. It’s switched off. He turns it on. His heart is beating fast. Text or call? Text will be slower, but quiet. Text. Finally the phone turns on completely. Paulo’s hands are shaking.

Menu… texts…

“Yes, right, let’s write a text,” sounds right next to his ear. Gigi.

The phone falls out of Paulo’s hands when he startles. Gigi picks it up and shoots a winning glance at Paulo. He did it on purpose.

He sits opposite to Paulo with his phone in hand and pays him no attention, typing calmly. Then he turns the screen to Paulo. The text is addressed to Paulo’s mother, and is something along the lines of “Mom, I forgot the charger…” Paulo feels the blood leaving his face. His only hope is gone. All of his friends know he’s gone to his summer house. Nobody will think it strange that his phone is off. Only his family could.

Gigi keeps watching him intently. He seems to be enjoying the moment Paulo realizes he will spend sixteen days in his claws with nobody to save him. He will have enough time to go slowly, like he’s taming a wild animal, until Paulo will do whatever Gigi will want him to do. 

A sharp voice cuts through his thoughts. “You know what I told you to do?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Well?”

“You told me to go here and sit on the sofa. And wait.”

“What did you do?”

Paulo knows where this is going, and it’s only the beginning.

“A stupid thing. Sir.”

Surprisingly, Gigi looks amused. “I forgive you,” he says. Apparently it surprises even him. “You were a good boy during the journey,” he adds as though he needs to explain it to himself more than to Paulo. 

“Thank you, Sir,” Paulo breathes out, and this time the relief is real. He’s determined to be at his best behavior, especially in the beginning, when there’s so much time left.

“Go upstairs to your room and get some sleep. Will you want the dinner to bed?”

_Such care!_ If Paulo was holding a knife, it would end up in Gigi’s chest. If he refuses, he’ll be hungry. He hasn’t had anything to eat since lunch. If he agrees, God only knows what will happen.

“No, Sir,” he says after a good while. 

Gigi still smiles. No doubt he’s been looking forward to this, it must have cost him a lot of energy and possibly money, and now he can finally enjoy it. When Paulo is already on the stairs, he says, more to himself: “Good night, sweetheart.” He’s smiling.


	4. Four

Paulo wakes up on Saturday morning and immediately realizes where he is.

He’s thirsty, so he goes to the bathroom to have a drink. He ignores his hunger, because the later he sees Gigi, the better. He takes off the crumpled tee and changes into his things. They carried all of his things into “his” room last night. Even though he hates it, he starts to unpack some bags and hang clothes in the wardrobe, just because he doesn’t want them crumpled. And he needs to take his mind off being so hungry.

There is no clock in the room, but he has his watch. It’s a few minutes past eight, and he feels even more hungry now, knowing what time it is. He usually has his breakfast at six. Ten minutes later, he decides to come down.

Quietly, carefully he creeps towards the staircase.

“Come down.” Gigi is standing downstairs, waiting for him. “Good morning, Paulo.” 

The warm greeting is immediately cooled down by Paulo’s response. “Good morning, Sir.” It sounds blunt and disinterested. He’s never thought he was capable of this voice.

In the kitchen, Gigi tells him to sit at the table and starts to put the plate, the cup, the spoon on the table, but no food yet. When half of the cupboard is already on the table, Gigi kneels down next to the chair and starts to caress Paulo’s hands and wrists. He takes off Paulo’s watch that he so stupidly kept on, saying: “You won’t need this here.” Paulo curses himself.

His touches are as unsettling as they were months ago. Everything Paulo had been trying to forget comes back to him. Gigi kneels next to him and Paulo should feel like a king looking down at his subject, but it just reminds him of his reality. Gigi ties his wrists in front of his body and finally stops touching him. 

“I think you couldn’t keep your hands still, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” he explains.

Paulo obediently agrees to this theory of his, he just wants some damn food.

Gigi pushes his own chair nearer, sits on it and starts to feed him. Paulo sits still like a disciplined student and eats everything Gigi feeds him. There’s no shame in it this time, because he’s too hungry for that.

“I couldn’t wait to feed you again,” Gigi purrs. 

Not even that bothers Paulo now. “Me neither, Sir,” he says sweetly.

“Good boy,” Gigi says in an equally sweet voice and drinks him in with his piercing blue eyes. In other circumstances, Paulo would consider his eyes to be very intriguing.

Gigi lays the fork aside and lays his hand on Paulo’s knee. Paulo freezes. The temptation to get up from the chair and jump back is strong, but he doesn’t give in. _Calm down. Breathe in, breathe out._

_Do whatever he wants you to do, it’s easier than the punishment that would follow,_ he remembers Federico’s words. Gigi’s hand slides up Paulo’s thigh and he lays his other hand on the other knee. Paulo sits still, but his heart is beating rapidly.

“You’ll get used to my touch, don’t worry,” Gigi provokes him.

Paulo tries to relax, but does a very poor job of it.

“You think about it too much,” Gigi purrs again. He slides his hands all over Paulo’s body, testing his patience, avoiding only the place where Paulo keeps his hands. “I need you to only feel me through your body.”

He hypnotizes Paulo with his eyes, he looks at the very bottom of his soul and Paulo just can’t close his eyes. Gigi gets up, brings a silk scarf and ties it over Paulo’s eyes, then starts touching him again. Paulo tries to focus - _breathe in, breathe out_ , but he feels Gigi’s hands much more than before. The touches have no pattern, no rules, there’s no way he can predict the next. He touches Paulo’s hair, face, his neck - Paulo _hates_ that one.

Suddenly, he stops, and Paulo has no idea whether it’s a good thing, or a bad thing. He hears Gigi get up, clean the table, then Gigi grabs him by the elbow and leads him to the living room, still blindfolded. Paulo wants to hold his hands in front of his, just in case he should bump into something. Gigi stops.

“You need to learn to trust me.”

_Why the hell should he trust him?_

Gigi lets go of his elbow and steps aside.

“Go straight. I’ll guide you.”

Paulo makes a few steps. It doesn’t go all that well, because he can’t see, his hands are tied in front of his body and he feels like he will fall at any given moment.

“Go faster.”

Paulo does, and almost trips over the edge of the carpet.

“If you fall, I’ll spank you, so that you’ll have a reason to cry.”

“I’m not crying!” Paulo retorts. “Sir.”

“But you will.” 

Paulo stops and literally feels the color leaving his face. He doesn’t know what Gigi means and what it means for him. Usually he’s quick to understand, but today seems to be an exception.

“When you realize that you will do anything I ask you to do,” Gigi provokes him further, and Paulo jumps on it.

“That’s enough, I’m not going to make a fool out of myself here!” Paulo snaps. He turns to Gigi, rips off the blindfold with his tied hands, and throws it at him.

He expects Gigi to be mad, as he’s not trembling in fear and obeying his every command. But Gigi looks like he wants to laugh. He’s keeping a stern face, but the amusement is all in his eyes. Like he was afraid it was all going to be boring, and finally he got some action. He walks towards Paulo.

“That wasn’t too smart,” he says. “What did you want to achieve by doing that?”

“Nothing! I’m sick of these games!” Paulo yells. “Sir!”

“You’re too cheeky for my taste. You need a lesson,” Gigi says, and there’s no trace of a smile now. And Paulo thought only he was capable of such mood swings. “We’ll go for a walk.”

For a walk? Paulo thinks that he’s dreaming. _Well, that’s great news!_

Gigi leaves. Trying to escape now would be a waste of energy, as the opportunity will present itself soon enough. Gigi returns in a moment, holding something in his hand. He comes up right to Paulo and reaches up to his neck. _Collar_. Paulo stares at the piece of thick leather and starts to back up, until his back hits the wall.

“No way! I can’t! I can’t stand that!” he yells, fear and anger seeping from his voice. Before he manages to kick Gigi somewhere it would hurt, Gigi pushes him to the wall and traps his tied hands between their bodies.

“You can stand much, much more…” he whispers and slowly fastens the collar. 

Paulo isn’t really choking, but he feels that way. In any case, it’s impossible to forget he has the collar on. Gigi attaches a leash to it and steps away to admire his piece of art.

“Let’s go, and I hope you remember that dogs don’t speak,” Gigi says and pulls on the leash slightly. 

They walk outside the house. Both Gigi’s and Paulo’s cars are still standing there.

“Welcome,” Gigi says solemnly. “This mansion is quite secluded. Fifteen kilometers to the nearest house. The wire up on the wall is live. There are woods all around. With wild animals, probably.”

The wall couldn’t be climbed over without a ladder, so the wire is irrelevant. Paulo almost doesn’t listen anyway, because his thoughts are all focused on what is on his neck.

“Just in case you’d manage to get through locked door, or to jump out of the window,” Gigi says. “Climb the wall and get to those houses… You running away from here is very unlikely, but I have to admit that I’d like it if you tried.”

Paulo isn’t surprised that people hunting in the woods is one of Gigi’s hobbies. His openness is awful. He leads Paulo across the yard, but Paulo can’t stand it anymore. He falls on his knees. 

“Please, take this off,” he begs and yanks on the leash as if he can rip it all off. “Sir, not this, please.” And he would have sworn this morning that he would never beg Gigi for anything.

Gigi stops, lifts him up and hugs him. “I hate to punish you, Paulo,” he says, and Paulo wouldn’t believe the pity in his voice in a million years. “I still tend to be lenient, because when I get you in bed, I’ll be the happiest…”

“Not in your wildest dreams!” Paulo yells.

Gigi freezes. The air between them gets somehow thick and impossible to breathe in.

“Tonight, you’ll get ten lashes,” Gigi says then. He cuts each word like voice is a knife. “On bare skin.”

“No!”

Gigi’s expression changes again. Now he looks… sad. He reaches up to Paulo’s face and caresses his cheek. “Honey, that wasn’t a question,” he says softly.

Paulo kneels again and begs for forgiveness. Tears are rolling down his cheeks. 

“Get up and shut up, don’t make it worse for yourself!” Gigi’s voice is hard now.

_Worse?_ What could possibly be worse?

_ Well, Gigi could probably think of something. _

Paulo gets up and wipes off his tears. Gigi watches him intently, as if he’s waiting for another scene. When it doesn’t come, he pulls on the leash without a word and leads Paulo back inside. There he finally, _finally_ takes off the collar and leash, and lets him go back to his room. 

Paulo spends some good two hours preparing a speech that could get him out of the entire situation, except when the door opens, it’s Mario, not Gigi standing on the doorstep with a tray full of food. And well, presenting his speech to Mario probably wouldn’t be good for anything. Also, Mario doesn’t look happy playing the role of the maid, and he also remembers all the times Paulo bit or scratched him.

Paulo eats all that is on the tray, because with Gigi he never knows when he will be fed again. He pushes the tray back then and just waits for Mario to come back. Maybe he can get him to call Gigi for him… if he promises he’ll never bite him again, or something.

He doesn’t have to give vain promises, because the one that opens the door is Gigi himself. However, he doesn’t look like he’s ready to hear out any speeches.

“I’ll come for you at six o’clock and I’ll take you downstairs, where you’ll receive your punishment,” he says and picks up the empty tray. 

Paulo just falls back on the chair.

Gigi stops at the door and waits. “You’ll get five extra lashes.”

Paulo just stares at him and doesn’t understand what made Gigi’s mood - and his punishment - even worse.

“Another five.”

Finally, he gets it. “Yes, Sir,” he whispers.

Gigi slams the door and turns the key in the lock. The situation finally dawns on Paulo, and he just can’t take it anymore. He drags his body to the bed, curls up on it and just lets his feelings flow. When he gets tired of crying and pitying himself, he tries to decide on what to do. He spends some time circling the room, then goes to bed and tries to fall asleep, without success. His ability to guess time is about as bad as his sense of orientation, so he has no idea of how much time he has. He finds a book in one of his bags, but after twenty pages he realizes that he has no idea of what he’s reading.

The stairs screech, then he hears the key turn in the lock. Gigi is standing on the doorstep, wearing black pants and white shirt, same as he did the day they met. Paulo wishes it never happened. Gigi looks like a hungry panther. He steps into the room, followed by Mario and Andrea. Both of them are also wearing black pants, but nothing else. _Jesus._ It definitely has the psychological effect on Paulo that they intended. As they approach him and reach for his wrists, he jumps out of the bed and plasters himself to the wall, keeping his hands behind his back.

“Twenty lashes are quite a lot for a newbie like you, so give me your hands before I add another five.” Gigi walks up to Paulo and leans closer. “I understand you’re afraid… Maybe we could postpone it until tomorrow and tonight I could lend you to Mario and Andrea…”

“No!” Paulo pulls his hands out and closes his eyes. “Sir.”

Gigi handcuffs him, which probably doesn’t quite fit in this medieval setting he’s got going on, but it’s faster and more effective than other means… not like Paulo longs for actual medieval chains or something. They lead him down the stairs, but not to the kitchen, further down to the basement. Paulo thinks that he’s going to go mad with fear. He feels like a criminal.

The room they walk in is quite big for a basement, lit by candles in several candleholders. A whole wall is covered in black curtain, otherwise the walls are raw stone. On the left, there is a wooden cross at the wall, and several other things Paulo doesn’t want to look at. In the middle of the room, there is a wooden bench with a white sheet thrown over it. It looks like it doesn’t quite belong here. Andrea unlocks the handcuffs and they all stand around the bench. Paulo feels like he’s facing the jury in a courtroom, except that his case is already lost.

“Lie down on the bench, face down,” Gigi says. 

There’s no one standing between Paulo and the door, but running away probably isn’t an option now. That’s when Paulo’s body decides to abort this mission. He makes one step to the bench, and promptly collapses on the ground. The touch of the cold concrete on his face does wake him up a bit, but he keeps his eyes closed because he still feels damn sick. Gigi jumps to him like he expected nothing else, puts something soft under his head and lifts his legs, propping them up on the bench. Then he leaves the room, judging from the steps with at least one of them.

Andrea sits on the floor next to Paulo and lightly slaps his cheek. “Wake up, sweetheart,” he calls. Even from his voice Paulo knows that he’s smiling.

Paulo slowly opens his eyes, because he can’t quite play dead forever. In that moment, Gigi and Mario return.

“Do we have him back?” Gigi asks.

“I think so,” Andrea says.

Gigi sits on the ground as well and pulls Paulo in his lap. Then he takes a cup from Mario. “Drink this.”

Paulo leans closer, and smells coffee. He hates coffee.

“I… I don’t like coffee, Sir,” he whines.

“Fine, I won’t force it on you anymore, but you’ll drink this.” It sounds very forgiving and his punishment seems to be forgotten, so Paulo doesn’t want to ruin it. He manages to drink the whole cup of the disgusting, too sweet coffee. Then Gigi and Andrea carefully sit him on the bench and finally, Gigi grabs him around the waist and walks him around the room a couple times. Paulo has to congratulate himself.

When Mario, who had gone to return the cup to the kitchen, comes back and closes the door again, a cold order cuts through the comfortable silence.

“Lie on the bench.”

Paulo can’t believe his ears and his brain refuses to process that information. He’s not able to move. Gigi snaps his fingers and Mario and Andrea grab him and lay him down on the bench. They tie his hands to the bench and tie his ankles together and then to the bench as well, and put a strap over his thighs. Nothing hurts, but he can’t move at all.

Gigi keeps standing in Paulo’s field of vision, holding a long whip in his hand. Andrea pulls up Paulo’s shirt and touches his bare back.

“Tight as a string,” he states.

_Who wouldn’t be_ , Paulo thinks.

“Prepare him, then,” Gigi says.

Andrea leans closer, lips hovering above Paulo’s ear. “Don’t worry, he’s the best at it, he won’t hurt you more than necessary,” he whispers, caressing Paulo’s back comfortingly. 

It doesn’t reassure him in the slightest.

“Be brave,” Andrea purrs, grabs the hem of Paulo’s shirt and pulls hard. Paulo just gasps when the fabric tears. Then Andrea pulls the shreds aside, pulls Paulo’s pants halfway down his thighs and steps back.

“Are you ready?” Gigi asks.

“No,” Paulo breathes out. “Sir.”

“Fine, I’ll give you a moment.” He stands calmly, looking at Paulo’s back and ass.

Paulo realizes that he’s only prolonging his own suffering, so when Gigi asks again, he just nods and screws his eyes shut. _How come he agreed to something like this, and how come that he’s… somehow… turned on?_

The first lash falls. It barely stings, somewhere near his shoulders, and he flinches more out of fright.

“One,” Mario’s voice sounds somewhere above him. 

The second one is stronger.

“Two. Three.”

It starts to burn. Paulo tenses and expects another lash. It doesn’t come. He opens his eyes. Gigi is watching him intently, waiting for every movement and change of expression. When he raises his hand, Paulo closes his eyes quickly and tenses up. The whip cracks somewhere in the air above him, but doesn’t even touch him. Paulo breathes out and relaxes. The next lash comes so quickly the sound of the previous one is still echoing in the room.

“Four,” Mario says.

The lash is the strongest on and completely paralyzes him. He wants to cry out, but no sound comes out of his mouth. He digs his nails in his palms and feels a tear roll down his cheek.

He gets enough time to compose himself.

“Five. Six.” 

Lighter ones, but one follows the other quickly. Then another break. Gigi is simply unpredictable. Paulo tries to fight against the bonds, but doesn’t even get a millimeter of space. His back burns.

“Seven. Eight.” 

Also lighter, but even those hurt now.

“Nine.” 

Any touch is unbearable now. Tears just keep falling.

“Ten.”

This couldn’t even be compared to the first flogging in the castle. That was child’s play, something that scared him, but barely hurt. Now he’s completely exhausted. Paulo is convinced that he’s going to die.

Gigi rolls up the whip and kneels next to him. He watches Paulo’s face intently.

“Can you take the rest?” he asks.

Paulo shakes his head and doesn’t even open his eyes.

“Fine, I’m ready to leave the rest for later, but I’ll want something in return.”

Paulo nods meekly. He knows that he will agree to anything, and Gigi knows it as well.

“Tomorrow, you’ll be my slave all afternoon.”

_ Oh, so he’s been a guest so far. _

“What difference does it make, Sir?” he asks. His voice sounds tired.

“Well, so far it felt like taming a wild animal, but tomorrow, I want a nice, responsive, docile being, ready to comply to my every wish.”

Paulo thinks about the meaning of _responsive_ , _docile_ and _ready to comply_. In other words, he’s to sleep with Gigi willingly.

“I won’t touch you if you don’t ask me to,” Gigi whispers.

Paulo looks in his eyes. He’s serious. There’s going to be a catch, but Paulo just can’t think about it now.

“Yes, Sir.”

“A proper answer,” Gigi berates him. 

“I’ll be your slave all afternoon, Sir.”

Gigi unties him, throws him over his shoulder like Paulo doesn’t weigh anything, and carries him upstairs. He lays him on the bed carefully, pulls off the remains of his shirt and covers him with the blanket, but leaves his back bare. That he comes later and smears something cooling over his back, Paulo barely knows. Luckily, his brain knows when to switch his body off.


	5. Five

On Sunday, Paulo wakes up when the sun is already high up in the sky. He opens the window and wants to stretch a little bit, when he realizes it might not be the best idea. For a moment, he stands still, then carefully tries to move. It does hurt a little, but overall, he feels much better than he expected. His curiousness makes him go to the bathroom and look in the mirror there. What he sees positively scares him. His skin is intact, it’s not broken anywhere, if he can tell, but red stripes are running all over his back in different directions. For some reason, he feels ashamed for looking like this, and almost starts to shake when he realizes there’s still half of the punishment ahead of him.

He gets dressed, gathers all his courage and comes down. Nobody’s there. Only a piece of paper on the table.

_Good morning, Paulo. Have breakfast and return to your room. G._

Paulo rejoices. He’s going to eat, and alone! There’s tea in the kettle, he finds some food in the kitchen and indeed has breakfast in peace. Every once in a while, a thud sounds from the outside, like someone is hammering there, then the sound of an electric drill.

When he’s done eating, he automatically starts to wash the dishes, but then remembers he’s not home and decides to leave them like that, because why not? He didn’t ask to be here after all.

Before he returns upstairs, he tries the door leading outside from the living room. They’re locked, of course. He returns to his room, picks up the book he couldn’t concentrate on the previous day, and starts reading. This time, he can concentrate just fine.

“Paulo!” an impatient voice gets to him after a while. “Hey! Come down!”

He puts down the book and walks out of the room. There’s Mario standing at the bottom of the staircase, looking mildly annoyed.

“Had breakfast already?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Great, so we can start.” He really does look impatient.

“Start with what?”

“Training.”

“What?” Paulo asks, and his voice sounds tense. Yesterday’s training left quite a horrific impact on him.

“Training,” Mario repeats, apparently forcing his voice to stay calm. “Gigi’s gone to the city to get some… things, and we’re supposed to get you ready for the afternoon.”

“He’s gone where? And what things?”

“If you think I’ll tell you where he’s gone, you can as well forget that. And if you think you can escape, I have to warn you that we have the permission to do whatever will be necessary with you,” Mario says and runs his hand down Paulo’s arm provocatively.

“Let’s begin,” Andrea says, sounding somewhat annoyed. “A good slave…”

Apparently, a good slave does a lot of things. He doesn’t speak without permission, there are things he’s supposed to answer to certain questions, and he’s also supposed to answer in the right tone, and bow respectfully and crawl on the ground, and a lot of other things. The atmosphere is much lighter than Paulo expected, and were it in a different situation, he would probably even enjoy it. Mario and Andrea reproaching him that there’s no desire to please his Master showing on Paulo’s face, and that when he’s crawling, he looks like a dead fish. They laugh at Paulo, and Paulo laughs at them in turn when they try to show him how it’s supposed to look. Well, it’s quite impossible not to laugh when Mario falls to Andrea’s feet with a look of total submission in his eyes, and proceeds to kiss his slippers. Finally, they both end up rolling on the floor, and Paulo is hanging over the armrest of the sofa, praying not to get hiccups.

“I think that’s enough,” Andrea says. “Gigi’s about to come back any minute anyway.”

He indeed does appear soon, sits in an armchair and inquires about what Mario and Andrea managed to teach Paulo. They talk about him like he wasn’t sitting right there, not even looking in his direction, and Paulo is half wishing he was dead, so that he didn’t have to listen to this, and half fighting with himself so that he doesn’t hit any of them in the face.

“Come here,” Gigi finally says.

“Yes, Sir,” Paulo mumbles and approaches him hesitantly.

“Go upstairs, have a shower and get dressed. The clothes are ready in your room. Let the game begin.” There is an amused sparkle in his eyes. He reminds Paulo of a big, strong, and wild cat. Paulo doesn’t like cats.

“Yes, Sir.” He runs up the stairs in a record time, just to be far away from Gigi.

He gets undressed and inspects the bundle of clothes on the bed. It’s not much different from what he remembers seeing Federico wearing months ago in the castle… worse, what he remembers _himself_ wearing months ago in the castle. He doesn’t like it a single bit. He still does put it on after he showers, and it’s just as awful as he remembers it.

When Mario comes barging in, he is as ready as he will ever be… for what, though, he has no idea. 

When Mario ushers him through the door, Gigi is sitting in the armchair in… what must be his bedroom. There is a giant bed, with a deep blue bedcover, two wardrobes, a chest of drawers, and this armchair. There’s quite a mess around, too, and it kind of doesn’t suit the image Paulo has created of Gigi in his head. He comes off as someone who likes order. Well, apparently Paulo can’t read him that well. Through the window, he can see the lawn outside the house, and the high wall. Then, there’s just forest, forest, and more forest.

Paulo falls on his knees and waits. During the “training”, someone always told him to get up. Now, there’s silence. But Paulo is no fool to fall for it.

“Get up,” Gigi’s voice finally sounds above his head, just as his legs are starting to hurt.

He gets up. 

“Wash me.”

“What… now?” That’s definitely not the answer he should give, but screw it. This is madness.

“Are you questioning my orders?” Gigi asks, and he looks amused, and it’s not good.

“I thought-“

“You thought? Slaves don’t think, Paulo, they obey.” Now it doesn’t sound like Gigi is amused.

Paulo falls to his knees again, hugs Gigi’s ankles and begs for forgiveness.

“Undress me,” Gigi hisses.

_What?_ Paulo looks at him with absolute terror in his eyes. Gigi’s eyes are blue and cold as steel, and the only thing Paulo can read in them is that whatever Gigi wants, he will have. He also looks pretty much angry, and it’s not like Paulo doesn’t have a certain debt he hopes Gigi will forget about.

He pulls Gigi’s t-shirt out of his pants with shaking hands, pulls it over his head and gets a whiff of his scent in return. He takes off even the golden chain around Gigi’s neck because he didn’t specify what Paulo should or shouldn’t take off, and the longer he can put off the inevitable, the better. He also folds everything carefully and puts it neatly on the chair. Then he gathers all his courage and reaches for the button of Gigi’s jeans. It takes him a while to undo them and pull them down his hips. Gigi just stands, perfect like a statue, watches Paulo intently and enjoys his torment. Even when he doesn’t move, there’s energy radiating from him. There’s the last piece of clothing left - the white boxers tightly hugging the curve of his bottom and the bulge in the front. Paulo takes a deep breath, reaches for the waistband from behind and pulls the boxers off. Then he stands next to the chair and looks at the floor.

Gigi turns to him. He is naked and silent, and it’s positively terrifying.

“Look at me,” he says.

Paulo stares right in his eyes, refusing to acknowledge the existence of any part of him that is below his neck.

“Like what you see?”

“No, Sir.”

Not like Gigi wasn’t expecting it, but he looks surprised nevertheless. He smirks and heads to the bathroom. Paulo follows him.

“What would some give for the permission to wash me…” he muses aloud, like he can’t understand what is wrong with Paulo.

“As a slave I can’t lie, Sir,” Paulo says quietly.

Gigi gets inside the giant bathtub that takes up half of the bathroom. Paulo reaches for the shower and fiddles with the taps. Gigi leans closer to him and _sniffs_ Paulo’s hair. Paulo doesn’t pull away only because he remembers his debt. 

“Do you like me touching you?” Gigi purrs in his ear.

“You promised you wouldn’t touch me, Sir,” Paulo says. It’s a safe answer; he doesn’t think another refusal would fare well with Gigi.

“I promised I wouldn’t touch you unless you’d want me to, but you do want me to, don’t you?” Gigi smirks.

Paulo doesn’t want to make him angry, but also doesn’t want to give him permission. His self-preservation instincts win this time.

“No, I don’t,” he whispers as meekly as he possibly can, switches off the water and starts to soap Gigi up.

“Never mind, I can wait a little longer.”

The self-assuredness is practically seeping from his voice, and he’s suddenly calm, too calm. Paulo soaps up his back, neck, arms, chest and knees, and wants to wash the soap off.

“Wash all of me.” He stands up. His cock is suddenly right in front of Paulo’s face. _Jesus._

“Yes, Sir,” Paulo mumbles.

He soaps up his legs. He refuses to touch the space from the hips to the middle of his thighs.

“I said all of me.”

Paulo’s blood runs cold. Why wasn’t he quiet before? Why can he never shut up in the right moment?

“Please, Sir, not that,” he begs, although he knows that it will be no use. But he can’t, he _can’t_ touch Gigi in this state!

Gigi grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls, forcing Paulo to look in his eyes.

“I will not force you to have normal sex with me…” he says. _Oh, so he knows what normal sex is?_ “But I do desire you very much, so you will be a good boy and use your hands and mouth to help me relax, is that clear?”

Paulo can’t move. His words are too filthy and crude for him to process. 

Gigi pulls on his hair again and tears him out of his stupor. Paulo closes his eyes, soaps up his hands and grabs Gigi’s cock. It’s hot, hard, and possibly getting even harder in Paulo’s hands. He soaps up Gigi’s ass, too, because he’s already damned, so what, and finally washes the soap off. Gigi lets him dry him off as well, _all of him_ , of course. In the bedroom, he lies on the bed and taps the mattress next to him. Paulo sits on the spot obediently.

“Take it in your mouth.”

Paulo doesn’t move, save for the trembling of his body he can’t quite help.

“Do you want to test my patience more, dear?” It is a warning, probably the last one.

Paulo takes him in his hand and then in his mouth.

He closes his eyes and tries to imagine someone else in Gigi’s place, but it doesn’t work.

He licks down the whole length of him, kisses and suck to the best of his ability. He just wants it to be over as soon as possible, but Gigi must want quite the opposite. After some time, Paulo’s neck starts to hurt and he starts to seriously consider biting him. Gigi just looks down at him, apparently enjoying himself. He’s closing his eyes, moaning quietly, but not making anything easier for Paulo. Half an hour later, Paulo’s neck is killing him, he feels like throwing up as Gigi pushes more and more of his cock down his throat, and he has to stop for a moment.

“I’ll be sooner if you allow me to touch you,” Gigi says and stretches lazily.

If he wanted to, he would be done a lot earlier. Paulo doesn’t get how he’s able to control himself like this. He’s tried his best, which might not be much, but still.

“I will not force you to do anything you don’t want, but you will surrender to me finally,” he keeps purring.

Paulo hesitates.

“May I touch you, Paulo?” His voice is caressing and tempting. He’s _pleading_.

Paulo just nods, he doesn’t have the strength to do more.

Gigi lets out a contented groan, sinks both of his hands in Paulo’s hand and gently presses his head against his crotch.

Paulo tries to do his best while Gigi caresses his hair, shoulders, back, neck… It’s clear as day that he would rather flip Paulo on his back and jump on him, he’s holding back only to have the final advantage. Then finally, he comes, digging his nails in the sensitive skin of Paulo’s inner thigh. He is full of praise for Paulo, but Paulo couldn’t care less. In the bathroom, Gigi lets him wash him - _again_ \- and puts on a bathrobe.

“Let’s go have something to eat,” he says then.

_ That sounds better. _

In the kitchen, he puts the food on Paulo’s plate, hands him the cutlery and lets him eat alone, taking his own plate with him.

“Good night, Paulo,” he says, stopping for a moment on the threshold like he hopes for Paulo to call him back.

“Good night, Sir,” Paulo says flatly.

As soon as Gigi is gone, Paulo searches through the drawers, grabs a knife and runs out of the kitchen. He finds all the doors locked. He can only go from the living room to the kitchen, or to his room. He can’t get to the other staircase that leads to Gigi’s room, or to the swimming pool. He doesn’t try the basement, because he never wants to see it again. 

He still takes the knife to his room and hides it under the pillow before going to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who encouraged me to write this and post this. 
> 
> Comments are very much appreciated!


End file.
